lthough the village was a pretty poor place in which to stay, the
near presence of a B.E.F. Canteen was a comfort. It is always amazing
to visit one of these places. Within perhaps four or five miles of the
firing line we have stores selling everything from a silver cigarette
case to a pair of boots, and everything, too, at nearly cost price.
The Canteen provides almost every variety of smoking materials, and
eatables, and their only disadvantage is that they make packages from
home seem so useless. As the tobaccos come straight out of bond, it is
far cheaper to buy them at the Canteen, than to have them forwarded
from home. These Canteens are managed by the Army, and are dotted all
over the country inhabited by the British troops. Since they have
sprung into existence life at the front has been far more comfortable
and satisfactory in France, and people at home are discovering that
money is the best thing to send out to their men.

Finally, one cold, sunny morning, about half-past five, the tank train
steamed slowly into A----, and drew up on a siding. It was not
possible to begin the work of unloading the tanks until night fell. So
the tired crews turned into the roofless houses which had been
prepared for them, and slept until dusk. When darkness fell, as if by
magic, the town sprang to activity.

V

PREPARATIONS FOR THE SHOW

That night the engines were started up, and one by one the tanks
crawled off the train. Although the day had begun with brilliant
sunshine, at dusk the snow had begun to fall, and by the time the
tanks came off, the snow was a foot thick on the ground. The tanks
moved down to the temporary tankdrome which had been decided upon near
the railway, and the sponson trucks were towed there. The night was
spent in fitting on the sponsons to the sides of the machines. It was
bitterly cold. The sleet drove in upon us all night, stinging our
hands and faces. Everything seemed to go wrong. We had the utmost
difficulty in making the bolt-holes fit, and as each sponson weighs
about three tons they were not easy to move and adjust. We drove ahead
with the work, knowing that it must be done while the darkness
lasted.

Finally, about two hours before dawn broke, the last bolt was
fastened, and the tanks were ready to move. The night was blacker than
ever as they lumbered out of the tankdrome, and were led across the
snow to a halfway house about four miles from the railhead, and an
equal distanc